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running horses, but never of running bulls before. Now, my lord, the bull could no more run away with the boat than a man in a coach may be said to run away with the horses; therefore, my lord, how can we punish what is not punishable?" How can we eat what is not eatable? Or, how can we drink what is not drinkable? Or, as the law says, how can we think on what is not thinkable? Therefore, my lord, as we are in this cause for the bull, if the jury should bring the bull in guilty, the jury would be guilty of a bull.”
The counsel for the boat observed that the bull should be pon-suited, because, in his declaration, he had not specified what color he was of; for thus wisely, and thus learnedly, spoke the counsel : “My lord, if the bull was of no color, he must be of some color; and, if he was not of any color, what color could the bull be of ?" I overruled this motion myself by observing the bull was a white bull, and that white was no color; besides, as I told my brethren, they should not trouble their heads to talk of color in the law, for the law can color anything. This cause being afterward left to a reference, upon the award, both bull and boat were acquitted, it being proved that the tide of the river carried both bull and boat away, both bull and boat had a good action against the water-bailiff.
My opinion being taken, an action was issued, and, upon the traverse, this point of law arose: How, where fore, and whether, why, when, and what, whatsoever, whereas, and whereby, as the boat was not a compos mentis evidence, how could an oath be administered? That point was soon settled by Boatum's attorney declaring that, for his client, he would swear anything.
The water-bailiff's charter was then read, takep out of the original record in true ląw Latin ; which set forth in
their declaration, that they were carried away either by the tide of flood or the tide of ebb. The charter of the water-bailiff was as follows: “ Aquæ bailiffi est magistratus in choisi, sapor omnibus fishibus qui habuerunt finos et scalos, claws, shells, et talos, qui swimmare in freshibus, vel saltibus riveris, lakos, pondis, canalibus, et well-boat, sive oysteri, prawni whitini, shrimpi, turbutos solus;" that is, not turbots alone, but turbots and soles both together. But now comes the nicety of the law; the law is as nice as a new-laid egg, and not to be understood by addle-headed people. Bullum and Boatum mentioned both ebb and flood to avoid quibbling; but it being proved that they were carried away neither by tide of flood, nor by the tide of ebb, but exactly upon the top of high water, they were non-suited; but such was the lenity of the court, upon their paying all costs, they were allowed to begin again, de novo.-STEVENS.
SONG OF THE WINTER WINDS.
H, what is the song that the winter winds sing,
As earth they are robing with snows that they bring From the crystalline realms of the stern ice-king?
"Oh, pity the poor! oh, pity the poor !"
“Oh, pity the poor! oh, pity the poor!”
They part the white curtains, and hover beside
Oh, pity the poor! oh, pity the poor!”
Then pity the poor, then pity the poor!
Because they are poor, because they are poor.
WILLIAM M. CLARK.
JEAN ANDERSON, MY JOY, JEAN.
TEAN ANDERSON, my joy, Jean,
O’ the days of auld lang syne.
An' death is drawin' near.
'Tis growin' hard to hear.
I kenn'd ye lang ago,
That toddlin' roun' did go.
An' I was but a child, Jean,
A boastfu', boist'rous boy,
Jean Anderson, my joy.
I'comp’nied ye to school ; Your basket hung between us,
To keep the gowden rule;
It was a joy fu’sweet
Spring violets at our feet.
When first we twa were wed,
As dewy and as red;
As gentle and as blue ;
It thrilled me through and through. Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean,
Ye've been my anely lo'e; I lo’ed ye in your bairnheid ;
I've lo'ed ye steadfast through;
I lo'e the locks of snaw
An' spring will never thaw.
Our bairns, they too are grown; An' roun’ the cheerfu' ingle,
Have wee things o' their own:
Three lives, I think, we've lived, Jean,
Since we were girl and boy-
Jean Anderson, my joy.
There is ane life beyon',
I seem to catch its soun';
Heights o' that gowden lan',
Led by His lo'in han’.
It makes cauld bluid leap warm,
Beyon' life's beatin' storm ;
We'll lean upon His breast,
J. E. RANKIN.